Unintended
by Goth Angel UK
Summary: The war is over, Severus Snape is in a coma and Hermione is plagued with nightmares, struggling to come to terms with all she has been through. Will she be able to overcome her personal demons and bring back to life her former teacher? Dare he love again?
1. Apocalypse Please

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, just the crazy idea for this story.**

**Epilogue? What epilogue? ;)

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_You could be my unintended choice to live my life extended_

_You could be the one I'll always love_

_You could be the one who listens to my deepest inquisitions_

_You could be the one I'll always love_

_I'll be there as soon as I can_

_But I'm busy mending broken pieces of the life I had before_

Muse – Unintended

**Chapter 1 - Apocalypse Please**

"So much death... So much pain..." she whispered quietly, hunched in her chair next to the bed at the far end of the dark infirmary.

Severus Snape lay motionless, paler than ever, the only sign of life the weak but steady rise and fall of his chest.

For the last several months Hermione had been struggling to rebuild her life, to make sense of everything that had happened. Paradoxically, the only times she felt the darkness weaken its grip on her soul were spent there, by the bed of the man everyone had hated.

Yes, it had been busy – rebuilding the castle had employed teachers and students alike, but now that everything was back in order and the new school year had started, the girl had found the return of the usual routine unbearable. Everyone had fought, so many lives had been lost, yet Vector still gave them complicated equations, Binns droned on about goblin rebellions, and McGonagall combined her new role as a Headmistress with the Transfiguration classes, her search for a replacement proven unsuccessful. Harry and Ron had been fought over by the best Quiddich teams in England, Ireland and Scotland, and had eventually chosen to join Oliver at Puddlemere United. As a result she only saw them once or twice a month. Luna had also decided against taking her N.E.W.T.s in favour of helping her father run _The Quibbler_, as the shock of nearly losing his daughter had weakened him and he wasn't willing to part with her for longer than a few hours. Neville had joined the Ministry as an Auror, and Ginny was already up to her ears in studying, and between that, the Quiddich practice and the vigorous correspondence with Harry she hardly had time for anything else; besides, their friendship had never been as strong as the ties which bonded her with Harry and Ron. Ron, who was so obsessed with Quiddich that whenever they were together it was either enthusiastic snogging or extensive descriptions of the latest game, the current best broomstick model and the reverence with which he and Harry were constantly greeted by everyone. He constantly failed to notice the change in her, even though she often struggled to keep a happy face for him.

To the rest of the students she was Hermione Granger, part of the Golden Trio, saviour of the wizarding world and someone to admire from afar. With that and her constant black mood leaving her with no desire to participate in the students' casual chatter, there was no one close enough to talk to, no one to keep the constant nightmares at bay and Hermione usually found herself beside the former Potions Master's bed at night. It felt... oddly relieving, talking to him, even if he would probably never answer her. If she had his face before her eyes, the sad whispering of friends lost in the fight stopped and she no longer saw their blurred shapes, and even if his motionless figure was just as big a reminder of the war, it still felt better to see him than the paralysing visions.

He had been in a coma ever since he was bitten by Nagini in the Shrieking Shack. After Harry had taken his memories, Hermione had quickly Apparated with the Potions Master to St. Mungo's and left him in their care, returning to the battle immediately afterwards. Yes, at the time she had thought he was an enemy, but when he had whispered weakly to Harry to look at him, she had done so as well, and the agony in his eyes had made her grab him and side-Apparate his limp body to the hospital. No one, not even an enemy should be left like that – dying in a pool of his own blood, all alone.

Later, when Harry had shown her and Ron Snape's memories, she had felt immensely glad that she had followed her better nature. To say he had more than deserved it would have been a gross understatement, and the Wizardgamot had had the grace to fully acquit him after seeing those memories as well. But it seemed all efforts to save the man had been in vain, as he had never regained consciousness. With so many wounded St. Mungo's had tried to help, but after two weeks had given up on him in favour of the more hopeful cases, and he was transferred to Hogwarts and given a permanent bed at the far end of the infirmary. After all, the university had been his home for so long it seemed only fitting that they should provide for him. Madam Pomfrey had enrolled the teachers in research, hoping to find a way to wake him up, but they had little time left at the end of the day, and constant failure had taken its toll on their faith in the success of the endeavour. Not to mention that, even though everyone knew about his faithful contribution to the success of the fight against He-who-probably-would-not-remain-unnamed-for-much-longer, most people still found it hard to sincerely care about him. He hadn't endeared himself to anyone during the long years of undercover work, after all.

After seeing his memories, Hermione had felt compelled to go to his bed, first at St. Mungo's, then at Hogwarts, and speak to him. She didn't know if he could hear her but felt impelled to say 'Thank you,' to show him that someone cared and ask him to fight, to come back.

There was no logical reason for his current state – Nagini's venom had been successfully extracted from his blood, antivenin applied, along with copious amounts of Blood-Replenishing Potion and several strong restorative potions and charms, and as far as his physical condition was concerned, everything was functioning as it should. But still he would not wake up.

So Hermione kept coming back, kept talking to him, just as she was doing at that moment. Her soft voice was so quiet no one but him would have heard, had anyone else been around.

"I can't... I just can't forget their faces... They haunt me every time I close my eyes... The light gone forever out of their eyes..."

She fell silent for a while, giving the pain time to subside from sharp stabs to its usual permanent throb in her mind, and in her chest.

"How much it must have cost you... pretending to be one of them... But no one really cares now, do they? They're busy trying to forget, trying to pretend that all's normal, all's like before... You had the heaviest burden of all, and you carried it in silence... but no one cares..."

She almost smiled at the thought that had he been awake, she would have received the most acidic rebuff in her life... together with at least fifty points deduction from Gryffindor. And he most certainly would have hissed at her to keep her compassion for those who cared about it.

She found she missed that. It was painful to see him so still, so... unnaturally vulnerable. It was as if all vitality had gone out and what was left was only an empty shell lying on the bed. Suddenly she couldn't bear the cold, still silence.

"Harry owled today... asked about you as always... They're well, him and Ron – they're happy... Somehow it seems they've managed to forget the past... Am I really the only one who still wakes up at night screaming?"

She leaned back in her chair. Madam Pomfrey would scold her in the morning if she saw her asleep beside Snape's bed again, but she knew that after finding her there so many times the mediwitch only did it out of habit and half-heartedly. She had once overheard her telling Professor Sprout that she was worried about the girl, but it warmed her heart to see that someone cared for poor Severus.

Of course, she didn't know the whole truth, didn't know that the nightmares' horrible lucidity only lessened there, next to the motionless body of the man who had given his life for them in more than one sense. Hermione unconsciously felt he had given up, that after fulfilling his mission he had nothing to fight for, nothing to live for, and somewhere in-between the pain and the dark visions she found the energy to wish she could find a way to bring him back – and maybe he would know how to help her.

"You always protected Harry, even if you hated him for being James' son; Dumbledore was ready to sacrifice him, even though he loved him... Is nothing in this world what it seems to be?" The girl sighed and closed her eyes. After another long period of silence she leaned forward again.

"I can't stand the darkness, it's drowning me... The pain, their faces – Dumbledore, Fred, Tonks, Remus, Sirius, Mad-Eye, Dobby... My parents.. I didn't save them, I couldn't save them... I couldn't save them... How do you forget all that?"

She buried her head in the bed sheet, near his arm. The fabric soon got damp and crumpled, but the warmth she felt radiating from Snape's body seeped into her and somehow managed to dry her tears. On an impulse she reached out and took his big, warm hand in her small, cold one. A tiny sob escaped her lips – for him, for herself, for all those who were gone, and for those who had barely survived.

Would the scars in her soul ever heal?

For a brief second she thought she felt the slightest twitch in his fingers, but it was so infinitesimal that she managed to convince herself she had imagined it.

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**I am glad to say this story is actually finished, and I could be persuaded to post the chapters quicker if you let me know what you think about it. Love it or hate it, review and you'll be rewarded ;P**


	2. Overdue

**Chapter 2 - Overdue**

A month before Christmas Hermione entered the infirmary, speeding her steps up in the hope of avoiding an encounter with Madam Pomfrey. Her red, puffy eyes would surely attract attention and questions, and she wanted neither.

Thankfully she managed to reach the former Potions Master's bed with no unwanted encounters, and as she slumped on the chair beside it, the girl whispered, "I finally did it... It wasn't right, and it wasn't fair on either of us... He knew it too... I'm sure he knew it... It will just take him time to come to terms with it... He's over it all now, I had no right to weigh him down with my pain... Besides, we really didn't have anything in common other than having fought together, we didn't speak the same language anymore..."

The girl rested her head next to Snape's still arm. She never stopped to ask herself what it was that made her calmer when she was close to her former teacher – she was tired of thinking, tired of trying to analyse her feelings about everything and everyone. Beside his bed his still calmness infused her as well, and even if it had a bitter, acidic aftertaste, it was nevertheless a form of peace – the only she could find.

The month dragged by like a wounded soldier, the short, bleak days contributing to Hermione's desolate mood, and Christmas came with a generous helping of pure white snow. Only a few students had stayed at Hogwarts for the holidays, and less than half of the teachers. It meant that she didn't feel quite as oppressed by the all-permeating cheerfulness as during the pre-holiday excitement, when everyone was talking about presents, and home, and cosy meals with their families. She had nowhere to go, no one to go to. The uneasy dynamics with the Weasleys after she had broken up with Ron meant she decided to decline the half-hearted invitation which Ginny passed to her a week before she left for Grimmauld Place – somehow having convinced her mother to let her spend the holidays there with Harry, although they were to enjoy Christmas Eve with everyone else at the Burrow.

After the Christmas feast in the Great Hall, Hermione used the opportunity given her by the increasing liveliness displayed by both teachers and students, and the fact that Madam Pomfrey seemed too busy chatting animatedly with Professor Sprout to think of retiring to her private rooms at the infirmary yet, and sneaked out, making her way to what she had come to think of 'her' chair beside Snape's bed.

The night was brighter than usual, the full moon reflected by the snow outside, and Hermione sat and stared at the sharp angles of her professor's face, illuminated by the cold, blue light. As she reflected glumly, it suddenly and unexpectedly hit her – _no one_ cared about _him_, not even her. She had been coming to sit beside him for her own selfish reasons – to talk, to keep the nightmares at bay, to escape the loneliness.

"I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry, Professor..." Her heart constricted heavily for the man in the bed, a man with no family, with no one to really, genuinely care whether he would wake up or not. As she rested her forehead on his arm, she cried for the first time for him and him only – for the man still very much misunderstood by everyone. Her tears soaked the linen of his nightshirt, seeping through the coarse material to his skin. And she realised she cared. Even if no one else did, she genuinely wanted to see him awake again, feel his cold stare and hear his silky voice reduce to a nervous wreck everyone unfortunate enough to have incurred his icy anger. She cared enough to forgive his insults to herself, and understood he simply didn't know anything else, and in all probability it could have all been just a mask to protect himself from everyone. With the life he'd had it was a miracle he had returned to the light at all.

"You helped us all, and no one else cares... Please, Professor, wake up... Don't give up on us... There_ is_ someone to whom it would make a difference if you came back... You did so much for us all..."

Suddenly from above her head she heard the unmistakable silky drawl, weak from months of disuse and hoarser than you remembered it, but retaining its usual cold cynicism, even if it was somewhat toned down. "Miss Granger, you seem to be deluding yourself that I am some sort of an angel sent from Heaven. You are very seriously mistaken, I assure you."

"You? Professor, you're awake!" Hermione jerked away, and stared at him while her brain was trying to catch up with what was happening.

"Yes, and I must ask you, _why_? Why did you take it upon yourself to make sure I was brought back to this infernal life?" His eyes sparkled with cold hardness in the scant light.

"_I_ brought you back?" Hermione tried to understand, but felt sure she was missing a vital point. Before the former Potions Master could say anything - and most likely offend her mental abilities - however, they heard brusque footsteps coming towards the bed, and in the next moment Madam Pomfrey, illuminated by her wand, stared at them in silent shock for several seconds, before exclaiming breathlessly, "I thought I heard... Severus, you are back! Oh, thank Merlin, you are awake! Oh, that is wonderful!"

"There is nothing wonderful about it," Snape spat, the anger very audible in his cold voice. The mediwitch, however, just beamed at him and fussed about, running her wand over his body and eventually pronouncing that everything was fine.

"I'll go and get Minerva-"

"And what would you do that for, pray tell? I'm sure she can very well spend the night in ignorance of my unfortunate well-being, and I would like to go to my rooms now, provided they are not otherwise occupied."

"Oh, no, you're not going anywhere, Severus! I want you here at least for twenty-four hours, so I can keep an eye on you. What if you have a relapse, or need help?"

"I have always been perfectly able to take care of myself, Poppy, seeing as there was never anyone else to rely on for that, and I have absolutely no desire to stay here a minute longer." He glared at the mediwitch in a way which made Hermione shiver. She marvelled at the fact that even this weaker version of Severus Snape was scary enough to make arguing with him a singularly unpleasant experience.

To her credit, Madam Pomfrey remained undaunted and did argue with him for at least ten more minutes, displaying a very fine example of dogged determination, but the former Potions Master was nothing if not firm and unyielding, and eventually she huffed loudly in frustration.

"Oh, fine, we'll take you to your rooms then, you insufferable man! You're lucky Greenleaf didn't want to live in the dungeons. But I will check on you first thing in the morning, and expect to be notified about _any_ change in your condition, regardless of how insignificant you think it is! Now, your muscles will have atrophied somewhat from all those months of disuse, even if your overall condition is surprisingly a lot less affected by it than I would have expected, so you'll have to suffer us to help you. And, yes, I know there is a potion for that condition," she forestalled the words which he was about to hiss, "but we don't have it right now. To be honest, the new Potions Mistress is less than adequate in providing us with potions. You'll have to exercise your muscles the slow way until I can send for a supply – there, let me help you up – come, Miss Granger, the professor will need both of us – there, that charm should make it a bit easier..."

Snape seemed to have resigned himself to following the mediwitch's instructions, only the grim line of his lips indicating that he was less than pleased with the turn of events.

The three of them eventually reached the dungeons, and after he muttered the password to his personal chambers, the two women supported him through the laboratory and the cold, Spartan living room to the equally cold and Spartan bedroom. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as the professor moved away from them to lean against the wall. The warmth of his body next to hers had been tinglingly delightful, but his slim frame was surprisingly heavy to support.

"There, now," Madam Pomfrey sent warming and cleaning spells to the bedsheets, then pointed her wand at the fireplace and cheerful flames sprang to life immediately. She motioned to Hermione and the two of them helped him to the bed, then the mediwitch asked warmly, "Would you like some food, Severus? I'm sure the house-elves would be able to prepare some nice broth for you in no time-"

"No, thank you. I will be grateful if you and Miss Granger leave now." His cool, still slightly raspy voice carried an undertone of steel which implied that disagreement was not an option.

Still stunned by the events of the evening, Hermione managed to mutter, "Good night, Professor," as Madam Pomfrey put an arm around her shoulders and gently ushered her towards the door.

"Good night, Severus. And don't think I won't be checking on you regularly, because I can be as stubborn as you, not to mention that I have my sources." She paused for a moment, then said softly, "It _is_ wonderful to have you back."

A sharp glare was all the answer they received, and the last glimpse Hermione caught of her former teacher was of him staring grimly at the wall, obviously having already dismissed their presence. The flickering flames threw the deep line between his brows into prominent relief.

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**A very big thank-you to everyone who reviewed, especially the people who don't have an account on here, so I can't reply to them personally. I'm glad you all like the story and, as you can see, I'm keeping my promise for quick updates :) Let me know what you think, even if for some reason you didn't like it - reviews are the only way authors can know whether they've done right or wrong.**

** I want to use the opportunity to thank excessivelyperky for his constructive criticism, which I took in consideration and hope the current version of the chapter shows it.  
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	3. A Crisis In Your Eyes

**A/N: I just want to clear out a few things - Hermione's parents died during the war, and she tries not to think about them because it's still too painful. And Snape's recovered physically, because, really, wizards who have Skele-Gro and Dittany at their disposal in my opinion don't linger about taking their time healing up physically, not even when bitten by Nagini (especially when you consider that Arthur survived her bite and recovered relatively quickly). There is a big BUT, however, as his state of mind is in quite a stark contrast with his improved physical appearance.**

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**Chapter 3 – A Crisis In Your Eyes**

The miraculous recovery of the former Potions Master was the main topic of discussion over the next few days, the information about it somehow having spread like fire around the school, as news tends to, even though none of the few people acquainted with it had specifically intended it to become common knowledge, and Hermione had another reason to be glad of the reduced number of people over the holidays. She found that she loathed hearing the various comments, ranging from mild well-wishing to regrets that he had regained consciousness to the most likely result of getting his job back to terrorise everyone again. She couldn't quite comprehend that attitude. Now that the threat from Voldemort had been eliminated, some people - most of them, really - had quickly reverted to seeing Severus Snape just as the greasy, nasty git from the dungeons, who lived only to make their lives a misery. Humanity could be disgusting, the girl reflected glumly while tracing random patterns in her barely touched meal under the heavy gray clouds on the enchanted ceiling. Finding that once again her appetite was missing, she stood up and made her way out of the Great Hall, through the multitude of corridors and stairs and out, stopping briefly on her way by the girls' dormitory to grab her coat, hat and gloves.

Soon she stood by the lake, her footsteps the only scar marring the virginal snow cover. Her thoughts slowly turned to the future – for the moment it didn't look appealing. With Snape residing in his private chambers, the nightmares were back to full strength, and she didn't know how to banish them from her mind for good. It had been five nights, and the lack of sleep was making her extremely irritable, the constant headache wonderfully adding to the ever-growing sense of detachment from reality.

"Shouldn't you be inside, having lunch with the few dunderheads unfortunate enough to spend the holidays here, Miss Granger?" a silky drawl interrupted her thoughts, informing her of the presence of her former teacher. She had been so lost in thought that it made her jump.

"Professor Snape? How are you, Sir?" Hermione instantly felt ridiculous. She had let herself in for a contemptuous snub that it was none of her business. And, true enough, it came, though in a somewhat different form than what she had expected.

"Still unfortunate to be alive, Miss Granger," the Potions Master drawled with the usual amount of cold disdain in his voice. She found that however strange his comment was, she could understand it, even if she didn't allow the sensation to fully form as a conscious thought even for a second -_ "I know how that feels."_ Not sure what to say next, she blurted the first thing that came to her mind.

"Your voice... it... it's back to normal, Professor."

"A very astute observation, Miss Granger," he sneered at her acidly. "I applaud you for it. Luckily, I am able to brew my own potions, many of which are not yet available to the general public."

Well, that had been very predictable. While she was somewhat annoyed by his snub, Hermione was glad to see he appeared to have quickly returned to his normal sarcastic-git self; to add to that he looked healthier than before, his skin still pale but devoid of the unhealthy sallow tinge it had always sported in the past. His next words came as quite a surprise to her, however.

"I believe you still owe me an explanation as to why you bothered bringing me back to consciousness." The venom in his voice was unmistakable, although there was something else underneath it – a hint of pained weariness which she was certain had never been there before. She didn't have the luxury of contemplating it, however, since after a few seconds she saw his formidable figure loom before her.

"Well, Miss Granger? I believe you have never before failed to answer a question, whether directed to you or not."

"I... I don't understand what you mean, Sir. I didn't do anything... Did I?" The tired and aching clogs in her brain spun painfully. "I cried... I cried for you... Is that it?" she looked at him with an incredulous expression on her pale face, her dark-rimmed eyes open wide.

Snape snorted. "Your powers of thought appear to have become rather rusty, Miss Granger. I expected you to figure it out when I first asked you."

"But... how?" She still found it hard to believe in that idea - so much so, that she had actually forgotten all about the question he had directed at her upon his return to consciousness. The mounting headache that gripped her temples really wasn't helping.

"The magic in tears willingly and selflessly shed for someone has been woefully underestimated – just as much, in fact, as the power of a life willingly and selflessly given for another."

"So... when I cried for you... And my tears touched your skin... I brought you back?" Hermione whispered softly.

"Precisely, Miss Granger. It only took you five minutes and a considerable amount of prompting. Now that we have cleared that out, perhaps you would deign to answer my question?" He stood before her, hands folded on his chest and his dark eyes burning holes through her brain.

"I... I don't know, Sir... It... didn't seem fair... You gave us so much-"

"And I would have expected that in return I would be allowed the grace to depart peacefully from this world after my duty to it had been fulfilled, don't you agree, Miss Granger?" his silky voice was very calm – deceptively so, as she could feel the anger radiating from him in silent waves. It chilled her to the bone. He was right, but she had not known what consequences her actions would have.

"I'm sorry, Professor. I didn't know..."

One of his eyebrows rose disdainfully. "Oh, you didn't? I am not sure I heard that right – did the indubitable Know-All just admit to not knowing something?" His voice was more acidic than ever.

Hermione was now beginning to feel her self-control slip away.

"I said I was sorry, Sir! If you insist so much on ending your life – here is the lake and I promise I will not even _attempt_ to rescue you; not until I'm sure you have achieved your wish."

His eyes positively burnt her now, his lips tightening to a thin, barely visible line. He appeared to put an immense effort into keeping his voice deadly calm.

"Thank you for that information, Miss Granger. I believe you will not find me succumbing to such an act of cowardice any time soon."

With a swish of his black robes he turned and strode towards the castle, leaving her feeling very confused and, for some inexplicable reason, guilty. Obviously peace of mind was too much to ask for at the moment, so she settled for leaving the tranquility of the snow-covered landscape fill her eyes until the darkness was forced to step back momentarily, leaving her thoughts slightly less glum. She would _not_ think of her professor and his anger with her.

As she lay awake that night, she was forced to admit the futility of her attempts – both of banishing the former Potions Master from her mind, and of getting some much-needed sleep. She had drifted off for a few moments, only to see Bellatrix Lestrange's beautiful face before her eyes, distorted with mad rage. She felt again that rage manifesting itself in the Unforgivable curse, felt the excruciating pain searing through her body, making her silently pray for death. Hermione dared not close her eyes again. Instead she wondered if Snape's dreams were as terrible as hers, then, belatedly – for her brain felt as if it would explode from the searing headache – realised that throughout the years he would have witnessed and suffered more than she could even begin to imagine. She could understand his reluctance to be brought back to life, even if she didn't feel it was right. He more than anyone deserved to find some happiness in life, some... reward for all the dark years of pain and secrecy.

She determined to find him on the next day and apologise again – and try and put the basis of a better relationship between them. And maybe, just maybe, he would have some Dreamless Sleep Potion. She felt she would need at least one night of proper sleep a week in order not to slowly lose her sanity, and the way things were going she didn't think she would be able to get any without some external help.

As Hermione stood before the former Potions Master's private chambers on the next day, she felt daunted by the prospect of facing his burning eyes again. After several deep breaths, she steeled herself and knocked. When the door opened and she saw those eyes looking down on her dispassionately, she nearly gasped, but somehow succeeded in retaining control over her body, if not entirely over her mind.

"Miss Granger? To what do I owe the pleasure?" The iciness in his drawl clearly stated that it was anything but. She refused to get intimidated, and asked softly, "May I come in, Sir?"

Snape sighed in exasperation and his lips tightened, but he moved infinitesimally to let her in. As she brushed past him, Hermione caught a whiff of a scent that hadn't been there when he had been unconscious – it was slightly spicy, with a hint of herbs and... Firewhiskey? She frowned slightly. It was too early in the day for alcohol, surely. As he strode past her and leaned on the mantelpiece she was forcibly reminded of the reasons for her visit, as he didn't waste time in drawling, "Well, Miss Granger? I am afraid I don't have the whole day to wait for you to speak, seeing as I'm required to brew a considerable number of potions for the infirmary."

"But... are you well enough to work, Professor?" The second the words came out of her mouth she hated herself for saying them aloud. And, indeed, she received a particularly disdainful sneer, although the usual venom was curiously lacking in her former teacher's voice when he replied, "Yes, Miss Granger, I am fully recovered physically, although I fail to see how that would be of any interest to you. Why are you here?"

Hermione took a deep breath.

"I wanted to apologise, Sir, both for what I did, and for what I said yesterday. Believe me, I didn't know I had the means of waking you up, and even if I had known, I wasn't aware that you didn't wish to be brought back to life. And I most certainly didn't mean to imply in any way whatsoever that you are a coward."

His lips curled in another sneer but the girl didn't let it distract her.

"I know what it's like to be a constant pray to nightmares." Her voice was quiet but firm. "I know what it's like to feel as if you are constantly drowned by darkness and pain... but there must be a way to live with that... There must be..." She trailed off at the intense look in his eyes. For several moments neither of them spoke, or even moved, then something in his gaze shifted almost imperceptibly, and he nodded stiffly. "Apology accepted, Miss Granger. Is there anything else?"

"Yes... there is, Professor... I... I wanted to ask if you had any Dreamless Sleep Potion – I don't intend to use it every night, I realise it's dangerous, but..."

Snape's eyebrow rose, and his dark eyes seemed to read every thought which passed through her head. She briefly wondered if she would know if he used Legilimency on her.

"Well, I... I really need to be free of the nightmares, even if it's temporary... I need to sleep, or I fear I'll go mad... Please, will you help me, Professor, until I can find another way to deal with everything?" She absolutely hated how helpless her voice had sounded.

"Why should I, Miss Granger? It's nothing to me whether you can sleep or not, and I see no need for dramatics - rest assured you will not be driven mad quite so easily." His silky voice was as dispassionate as ever, but Hermione thought she saw something in his eyes, some slight semblance of compassion which encouraged her to say, "You don't have to care about me, Sir. But I thought you of all people would understand..." The rest of the words faded before she managed to get them out. She couldn't bring herself to say, "You would understand what it's like to remember the pain, to see the faces of the dead and know you couldn't do anything to help them." However, she got the impression that he knew exactly what she had omitted. His eyes held hers inscrutably for a few more seconds, before he nodded stiffly. "Very well."

He moved swiftly away from the fireplace and disappeared behind a door hidden by a tapestry. When he returned, he held a small vial in his hand.

"Only one drop in a glass of water, remember that, Miss Granger. I will not be held responsible if you kill yourself." He threw her a look which told her he was getting his back for her comment the day before.

She took the vial from him with a grateful smile.

"Thank you, Professor. I promise to be very careful. I am well aware of the dangers of using it."

"I certainly hope so, Miss Grander. I also hope you are aware this is only a temporary solution, which I will refuse to provide you with the moment I determine that you are in danger of becoming too dependent on it," he drawled, his eyes holding hers for a few moments, and his inscrutable expression wavered for a fraction of the second before the cold mask of disdain returned to it.

"Yes, Sir. Thank you," she broke eye contact feeling inexplicably confused, and left his lab wondering what went on behind the expressionless face of her former teacher.

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**And just to whet your appetite, in the next chapter Severus Snape loses control. Not saying a word more, if you want me to update sooner, review and let me know ;) Yes, I realise that's blatant blackmail, but, hey, it seems to work for most authors here :P**


	4. Butterflies & Hurricanes

**I feel I need to put a warning here that we have come to the point where the story earns its M rating. There, you have been warned ;)  
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**Chapter 4 – Butterflies & Hurricanes**

Hermione saw nothing of the former Potions Master until the end of the holidays, but at the first dinner after the students' return she was surprised to see him seated at the staff table together with the rest of the teachers. Beside her Ginny didn't even try to hide her displeasure with that fact.

"What is _Snape_ doing up there? I hope they don't let him teach Potions again!"

"And why not?" Hermione was surprised to hear the defensive note in her own voice.

"Why not? Because he is a nasty git, that's why! Even if he was always on our side, he's still a mean old bastard, 'Mione. You, Harry and Ron always got the worst of his temper. "

"Yes, but that doesn't change the fact that Greenleaf doesn't know what she is talking about most of the time! I'll be very surprised if I pass the Potions N.E.W.T. after her completely botching up all her classes."

"Oh, 'Mione! Life doesn't consist entirely of studying, you know."

"Ginny, I happen to have found that out in the hardest way there is, and well you know it."

"Sorry."

Ginny looked like she was about to say something else, when the Headmistress stood up and cleared her throat. Everyone fell silent.

"I welcome you all back to Hogwarts, and I hope you have had good holidays. I am very happy to announce that, as you can all see, Professor Snape has fully recovered from his ordeal. Moreover, from the next school year, he will be back to teaching Potions," here a multitude of groans could be heard distinctly but McGonagall ignored them and went on, "and seeing as some of you are going to sit for your N.E.W.T.s this year, he will be available to provide answers to any questions you might have, as well as any additional help you need to prepare for your Potions exam." At that Snape shot her a particularly venomous glare, and Greenleaf looked like she very much wanted to kill someone. "Now let us enjoy the food."

"Oh, well, at least _we_ won't have to suffer him. That's a relief," Ginny murmured as the plates before them filled up, and Hermione shot her an admonitory look. It was lost however, as the girl's attention was already on the food, and as soon as her plate was empty, she shot up.

"See you later, 'Mione, I have to run now."

Hermione nodded, her thoughts instantly shifting back to McGonagall's announcement. It gave her a good reason to seek Snape and... and then what? Ask him if she could sleep next to him? She snorted at the ridiculous thought. But she knew the one drop of Dreamless Sleep Potion was losing its effect on her, which would mean she would either have to increase the dosage, or find another way to keep the nightmares at bay. Perhaps she could use the opportunity of meeting the former – and future – Potions Master more often to find out if there were any alternatives to the potion.

Over the next weeks she became a regular presence in Snape's private laboratory, as even without the necessity of finding a means to get some undisturbed sleep, she had many questions concerning the seventh year syllabus as well as the exam topics. He would always welcome her with a contemptuous sneer and exasperated looks, but as time went by, she learned not to mind that. He would always, albeit grudgingly, answer her questions, the only exception being the most vital one. He had plainly said he knew of no other way to subdue the nightmares which wouldn't involve a definite risk to her when exposed to the treatment for prolonged periods of time, and even more plainly and firmly refused to give her any more of the Dreamless Sleep Potion. He had only deigned to give her a nerve-calming herbal potion, which had certainly made some slight difference, although it didn't last for long. She was able to get a couple of hours of sleep per night with only the occasional nightmare, but after that the effect would wear off and she would wake covered in sweat and trembling. It was by no means enough, but it was the best she could hope for.

She wondered what the Potions Master's long, intense looks he often gave her meant; at first they had disturbed her somewhat, but she gradually got used to them, and even dared hope he was observing her pale face and the deep shadows under her eyes with the thought of finding a more effective way to help her. Of course she snorted every time her thoughts went in that direction – Snape concerned enough to go out of his way to help her was almost as unbelievable an idea as Hagrid - Hagrid, who had left Hogwarts to live with his new wife, Olympia, Hagrid whom she still missed much more than she had expected - suddenly losing his obsession with dangerous creatures, or the Headmistress announcing that she was getting married. The hope, however, refused to give up, and niggled the back of her consciousness every time she saw him observe her silently. Along with that an unfamiliar flutter seemed to take residence in her stomach every time she was in his presence. She began noticing things about him, like the inherent grace in his movements, or the fact that his eyes were actually dark brown, rather than black, as she had always assumed. She realised his hair wasn't greasy – it was simply so sleek and lustrous that from a distance one could make the mistake of thinking it was the shine of grease. It wasn't actually limp and lifeless, but so thick and heavy that its weight forced it to hang down. The girl wondered how the three of them had never noticed that fact for all the times they had made offensive remarks about his appearance, but supposed that it had been only too easy to simply attribute to him all the sins in the world, and, prejudiced by his behaviour, think him all that was ugly and off-putting. He was by no means handsome, nowhere near it, but she found herself looking at the strong, worn lines of his face and finding that he was in his own way attractive.

Hermione was surprised it had taken her so long to see her professor in a truer light, but then, even as she had sat beside his bed in the infirmary, she had been too occupied with her own pain and dark visions to pay much attention to his physical appearance, other than the paleness and deathly stillness of his figure. Now she almost wished she had remained ignorant, since the fluttering excitement every time she saw him didn't bode well. Combined with her usual morose state of mind it left her nerves in tatters, and at night added to the nightmares were disturbing, restless dreams of a very different nature. She wondered if it was simply because he was the only one – she believed she could safely make that assumption – who would know intimately the darkness and pain that plagued her mind every second she didn't spend concentrating on her studies, and sometimes even while reading, if she had the misfortune to come across a particular word or sentence which would trigger a horrific memory or simply remind her of people and innocence lost. It felt as if the carefree times with her parents, laughing and simply enjoying life, were separated by decades from the person she saw now in the mirror before she cast charms to hide her paleness and shadowed eyes from her fellow students. She only removed the glamour before entering Snape's laboratory. Whether it was an attempt to evoke his pity in order to get his help, or a desperate move to put distance between her and the growing attraction she felt by appearing at her worst, she didn't know and didn't care.

For the hundredth time she stood before him, looking at his dark, inscrutable eyes, pleading with him to help her.

"Please, Professor, I'm sure there must be something that can be done – a modified potion, or... partial Obliviation... I don't know..."

"The Know-All at a loss for words again? That is something one does not see every day," he sneered. "Miss Granger, you sorely test my patience. I have told you time and time again – there is no potion, modified or not, that will not get addictive when used for prolonged periods of time, and I will not Obliviate you, partially or in any other form, as it would create as many obstacles as it would remove. There is no magical solution," she wondered if the pun was intentional, "so you will have to learn to live with the nightmares, just like everyone else." Now his sneer was accompanied by a burning glare which a few months ago would have effectively made her nod obediently and hastily take her leave. Now, however, she was much more used to his foul temper, or maybe it was that she understood far better the reasons for the darkness in his look. She wasn't sure, but whatever it was, prompted her to fix her eyes on his resolutely and say calmly, "Is that what you do, Professor? Why don't you tell me how _you_ deal with the darkness and the pain?"

His nostrils flared, the line between his brows deepened and she had the feeling that his eyes had pierced her head, coming through the back of it and pinning her to the wall.

After a long, charged silence, he hissed, "I don't deal with it, Miss Granger – thanks to your meddling, I have been sentenced to _live_," he spat the word, "with it. There is a considerable difference between the two. Now, if you have finished with your infernal questions, due to the ignorance of Professor Greenleaf I have a number of potions to prepare." With that he shifted away from her, leaning one hand against the wall, swiping the fingers of the other through his hair.

Hermione hesitated for a few seconds, then took a deep breath and moved forward, gently laying her hand on the Potions Master's chest, feeling the corded tension in his body and the rapid rise and fall of his ribcage. He turned sharply, his eyes moving from her hand to her eyes to study them with a burning intensity, then with a hissed curse he pulled her roughly flush to his body, his hot, firm mouth crushing on hers violently. Hermione's gasp of surprise was lost in the force of his kiss, and after the initial shock she pressed as close to him as she could, yet it still did not feel close enough and she whimpered involuntarily. His scent filled her nostrils with the combined aroma of spices, herbs and Firewhiskey, making her head spin as she inhaled it.

With silent urgency hands tugged, pulled, tore in something that burned like anger and pain and tasted like loneliness and lust. Hermione felt his lips on her neck, on her breast, all over her body, biting, kissing, licking, savouring, torturing, and the girl barely registered she was reciprocating with fevered caresses of her own. She didn't know how they had ended on the cold stone floor, bare skin pressed to bare skin, limbs tangled in raw urgency, the only sound their ragged, gasping breaths. The only moment of lucidity was brought by the sharp, piercing pain when he thrust in her. Somehow it felt good – it made the other pain fade away and the darkness retreated reluctantly, leaving her in a blazing white haze, moving relentlessly towards something, something which was building up, pushing the physical pain away... Before she had reached that unidentified aim, however, she felt him tense, the thrusts becoming harder, erratic, desperate, then he stilled for a few moments and collapsed spent next to her shortly afterwards, his breath ragged and laboured.

Hermione didn't know how to feel. She had welcomed it, but now didn't dare look her professor in the eyes. Would he consider it a grave mistake on both their parts? Would he be angry once reality reasserted itself? She stood up gingerly and slowly dressed up, all the while willing herself not to look at him. When she was fully clothed she couldn't postpone it any longer and silently directed her eyes to his naked form on the dark floor. He hadn't moved, other than to cover his face with one hand, the other clenched tightly in a fist beside his thigh. She took a moment to memorise the lean strength of his body, the paleness of his skin, sprinkled with dark hairs over his legs, forearms and lower abdomen but devoid of them everywhere else. As her eyes fell on the rough scar on his neck left by Nagini's bite she felt them prickle, so she quickly shifted her gaze, unwittingly directing it to the unfamiliar sight of his manhood. It made her skin feel hot and tight. After she had committed the bittersweet view of his body to her memory, she said softly, "I... I'll go now, Professor..." because she didn't know what else to do or say.

He nodded, without removing the hand off his face. Hermione sighed quietly and slowly walked out of the room, for once happy that few people sought the dark ex-Death Eater. She didn't want to think what would have happened if someone had been near the door when she had opened it, even if she had done so extremely cautiously.

That night she couldn't close her eyes for a second. Thankfully in between the nightmarish visions her mind was busy conjuring, there was more than one of the Potions Master – the way his body had felt pressed to hers, the urgent onslaught of his lips kissing and biting her skin, the way he had felt inside her and how alive and whole she had been, as if the pieces of her soul had flown to each other in the first semblance of genuine peace and entirety she'd felt since the war had ended. Hot on the heels of those breathtaking memories, though, came the overwhelming worries. What had that been to him? What had it been to her, for that matter? She knew for definite only what it had _not_ been – a quick shag to fulfill the animal instinct to mate and satiate the lust for the ultimate euphoria. Yes, it had been primal in essence, but it had felt like a deep bonding on the most basic level, a desperate search for something – someone – to chase the pain and loneliness away. Yet she didn't know if it had been the same for him, and spent the night alternatively plagued by dark shadows and discarded next steps. She desperately prayed he did not decide it had been a mistake, even if her mind kept cruelly reminding her of Lily Potter and telling her that in all probability a grave error was exactly what he would count it as.

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	5. Micro Cuts & Absolutions Pt1

**Chapter 5 – Micro Cuts & Absolutions Pt.1**

Hermione spent the next few days in an extremely nervous state of indecision. The girl both longed to see the Potions Master and dreaded the encounter. When one afternoon she finally spotted his black figure in the corridor just ahead, her heart skipped a good few beats, but as he approached and she found her voice to say "Hello, Professor," with a tentative smile, he only nodded stiffly without slowing his steps even for a second. Her smile fell and she walked away feeling pain more intense than ever before. Her despondency didn't last long, though, as she decided she would find a way to talk to him and... and what? Force him to say he wanted a relationship with her? She smiled bitterly. Whatever he might have to say would be better than this state of insecurity and unknowing.

It proved difficult to speak to him, however, since every time she knocked on his lab's door it was locked and there was no response. She felt certain he had modified the wards to warn him when it was her. It was not promising, but she kept trying to find him on his own with a desperate persistence born by the need for resolution, one way or the other, as well as by her increasingly stronger feelings for him. The Muggle saying that a woman could not stay emotionally detached after sexual intercourse seemed to be proving right in her case, she thought bitterly, even though deep inside she realised what had happened between them was only a tiny part of the reason for her unexpected feelings.

Every time she thought she had succeeded in cornering him somewhere in the castle with no curious eyes and ears in the vicinity, the Potions Master would hiss at her that he was in a hurry and walk away deaf to her pleas to wait and listen, leaving her frustrated, another wound added to the bruises on her soul.

Eventually her frustration and pain gave way to anger, and as he once again tried to walk away she reached and grasped his robes tightly.

"You _will_ listen to me, Professor Snape, whether you want it or not," she nearly growled in fury.

He froze and looked at her with corresponding fury in his eyes. "You are right, Miss Granger, I do not want to listen to you. I have no desire whatsoever to be reminded of the latest reason I have to loathe myself and my prolonged existence!"

Startled by his words, Hermione loosened her grip on his robes and he used the chance to pull them out of her hand, striding away with brisk, angry movements.

"Loathe himself?" she whispered. He was certainly not going to get away without an explanation after that! Was he under the impression she hadn't wanted it to happen, or was he simply disgusted with himself for being attracted to her? Hermione was more inclined, or hopeful, to believe the former rather than the latter. Or – the thought made her blood freeze – maybe he saw it as a betrayal to Lily's memory. She walked towards the library, determined to corner him again as soon as chance presented itself, although her latest suspicion made her steps as heavy as her heart felt. Could she convince him that she felt for him in a way Lily Potter would never have done, even had she been still alive? Could she ever persuade him to give her a chance to reach out to him? The insufferable man!

Cornering Severus Snape again proved much harder than she had hoped, since every time he saw her coming towards him he would resolutely turn and stride away. If she wasn't so upset by it she would have been amused by the fact that the man who had faced Voldemort thousands of times was effectively running away from facing her. However, every turn of his back to her cut too painfully for her to think the problem could have any amusing aspect whatsoever. The nightmares at night, in the rare occasions she managed to fall asleep, now consisted mainly of images of him rejecting her in hundreds of ways, or him bleeding on the floor of his library, a knife beside his cold fingers, or of his lifeless body being dragged out of the lake. Her conscious self knew, remembered his words that such an act of cowardice was below him, but her unconsciousness seemed to relish in presenting those visions to her all the same, fuelled by his self-deprecating words.

Hermione decided to resort to the last means left to her – she would write to him, regardless of how much she loathed the idea of trying to express her feelings on an indifferent, emotionless piece of paper. With a marginally lighter heart she sat in her quiet corner of the library and spread a parchment on the desk. Her hand trembled slightly as the quill hovered over it, her mind trying to chose the best words, the words which would make him read it rather than tear it into little pieces or throw it in the fire.

_Professor Snape,_

_As you see, I remain undaunted – the feelings I have for you give me the courage to put my quill to the paper and pray that you read what I want to say. I do not know your thoughts on what happened between us, but on my part, I do not regret any second of it and never will. I have come to respect and admire you more than I could ever respect and admire anyone else, and I care for you very deeply - probably far more than I should, but I am not ashamed to admit it. I am aware you most likely do not see me in that way and probably wish to erase the memory of what happened, but even so, I need to know, I need to hear it from you. Please, do not avoid me, but be the man I respect so highly and speak to me._

_ Yours always,_

_ H._

Hermione read through it again and nodded in approval. It was short but conveyed most of what she wanted to say to him, even if it was just a tiny little bit soppy. She folded it carefully and wrote his name on it, then made her way to the Owlery and tied it to the leg of a small tawny owl. It flew away immediately, and she felt some part of her follow it in the air.

At lunch the Potions Master wasn't at the staff table and she longed to know if it was in any way connected to her letter, and if so, whether it was a good or a bad sign.

She was glad of the fact that it was a Saturday, as her brain refused resolutely to take in anything she tried to cram into it, regardless of how hard she tried to concentrate on her studies. The fact that she was sitting in the same corner of the library where she had written the letter only served to distract her further. As she made her way to the dormitory in the evening, her heart felt heavy – still no sign that Snape was inclined to speak to her, although he was again suspiciously absent from dinner. Hermione never saw him on the next day either and eventually gave up trying to study, making her way out to the lake instead, where she stood for a long while, staring at the waters with unseeing eyes.

She had just settled in bed, the tears burning the inside of her eyelids, when she heard a quiet tap on the window and jumped to open it before any of the other girls woke up. A pretty barn owl flew in and stretched its leg to her. She held her breath while untying the parchment, then absent-mindedly stroke the bird's wings a few times. It waited for a little while but seeing that it wasn't likely to get any treat, flew away with a soft, indignant hoot.

Hermione settled on her bed and whispered "Lumos." Her wand shone softly over the short message.

_Come to my laboratory tomorrow after classes._

_ S._

Her lips quirked slightly. How like him not to waste any more words than strictly necessary to convey his message. She didn't know what to feel – he had given no indication of the way their conversation was to go, but she supposed it was understandable. At least she would know for certain on the next day. Her sleep was slightly less disturbed that night.

Time had never dragged so slowly for Hermione, and her attention was nearly non-existent. Luckily she only had two classes – Potions and Transfiguration – in the afternoon, and was able to sit at the back, an action which no doubt surprised the teachers and her fellow students alike, but she really didn't care. Somehow she managed to prepare her potion without blowing the cauldron up, but got a very sharp reprimand from McGonagall for not concentrating enough on her task. She hoped to redeem herself in the next class, but found she was a lot less worried about it than she would have been a few years ago.

Finally she stood before the lab door, trying to prevent her heart's manic attempts to jump out of her mouth. After a minute or so of hesitation, she gathered herself and knocked. In slow motion she saw the door open and the Potions Master wave her in, then the door closed behind her and she was staring at his dark eyes. They both stood in silence for what felt like eternity, then he broke it with a sharp intake of breath. Somehow they moved simultaneously towards each other and she found his mouth on hers once again. This time it was gentler, tentative and she drowned in it, letting a haze envelop her brain until nothing else existed but him. He parted from her to take her hand and lead her through to the living room, where he sat on the sofa and tugged her until she was cradled in his lap. Then Snape leaned his forehead to hers and whispered, "I tried to stay away to protect you..."

"Protect me? But, Sir-"

"Severus. Call me Severus, Hermione."

"Severus," the name felt foreign on her tongue, but she liked the intimacy it created. "What did you think you were protecting me from?"

"From me, from yourself... I managed to convince myself it was better for both of us to forget what happened... You don't need a broken wreck, the burden you carry is heavy enough..." He paused for a moment, then continued, anger and self-loathing clearly audible even without his choice of words, "I took your innocence, for Merlin's sake! You should be repulsed! _I_ was repulsed with myself afterwards, I _loathed_ myself for it!" His voice was full of bitterness and Hermione frowned at him.

"That is ridiculous... Severus. I am not repulsed, never was and never would! I am happy you were my first! Why on Earth should I be repulsed that something I had dreamt about but thought impossible actually happened?"

"For one thing, I am old enough to be your father, in case you have failed to notice," a trace of the old sarcasm entered his voice at that statement.

"So? I found out that boys of my age don't interest me – it took a while, I admit, but it became glaringly obvious while I was with Ron. You, Severus Snape, you make my pulse race, your intellect calls to me, you show me what is to have feelings for someone I can look up to, instead of stooping down to their level."

Severus sighed. "I am a very broken man, Hermione. I don't know if I'll ever be whole again, after what I've seen, what I've done... I have nothing to offer..."

Hermione traced the worn lines on his face with her fingers, sighing softly. "In case you haven't noticed, Severus, I'm not exactly whole myself... And _that_ is quite an understatement, actually... But I know we can help each other put back together the broken pieces... Let me stay the night, and I'll show you..." she was surprised at her own boldness and almost expected a rebuff, but Severus just looked at her gravely.

"They'll notice your absence in the dormitory."

Hermione shook her head. "They won't, believe me, and even if they do, they won't make an issue of it, they are not close with me, Severus. No one is..."

Snape looked uncertain – it was the first time ever that she had seen him anything but arrogantly confident in himself and the inherent inferiority of the rest of the world. The vulnerability of his expression made her eyes sting, but she tried not to show it, huffing in frustration instead. "Fine, I'll go now, but I'll come back when everyone's asleep. Happy?"

He ran his fingers through her wayward curls. "That... sounds more reasonable, although it is still very dangerous. You do realise you are risking your exams, and I am risking my job next year..."

"But you are not a teacher at the moment, Severus, and I am of age. They can't say anything until you are actually back in your capacity of a professor here."

"It would still seem highly unethical and unprofessional, Hermione," he said, but the lack of conviction in his voice reassured her he had actually given up the fight and was only putting up resistance for the sake of it, so she ventured to kiss him gently before standing up. "I'll see you later, then... Severus." She sent him a brilliant smile, and her chest tightened when she saw his eyes soften and his lips move ever so slightly upwards.

"I'm beginning to wonder if you haven't somehow sneaked Amortentia in my food, Miss Granger. I should be telling you to never come back, to forget all about me but... I find that I cannot..." He shook his head in tired resignation. "Until later, Hermione..." his silky voice was gentler than she would have ever imagined it could sound.

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	6. Micro Cuts & Absolutions Pt2

**Chapter 6 – Micro Cuts & Absolutions Pt.2**

Hermione spent the longest several hours of her life waiting for the other girls in the dormitory to fall asleep, and only crept out when she was certain there was no sound to be heard other than the rhythmic breathing and occasional snores of the sleeping students.

As soon as she stood before the Potions Master's private chambers, the door opened, and Severus took her hand and pulled her towards him while he closed it behind her. He led her straight through the lab and the living room and into his bedroom. There he stood still, running his eyes over the small, feminine figure lit by the soft flickering flames of the firelight and several candles.

"I don't deserve you, Hermione," he whispered softly. "But I can't stay away... Merlin knows I tried..."

Her only reply was to step closer and pull his head down. What started off as a tender brush of lips against lips soon escalated into a violent fire which enveloped them, and Hermione clumsily started working on the buttons of his overcoat, shyness, inexperience and desire combining into one powerful force which made her fingers shake. She swore quietly and was pretty certain she heard a short, low chuckle in response to her agitation, but it was such an unusual sound to come from the Potions Master's mouth that she had to look up and make sure her senses weren't playing tricks on her. His eyes were shining with some strange emotion, and the echo of the chuckle was still visible on his lips. He used the opportunity to kiss her deeply while his own fingers gently pushed hers out of the way and finished unbuttoning his coat. Hermione slid it off his shoulders and down, then frowned at the realisation that there were yet more buttons to be fought. It hadn't felt quite so frustrating the first time...

"Severus..."

He lifted his head from her neck, and looked at her enquiringly.

"Did you Vanish our clothes before?"

His lips quirked slightly, but he said nothing, returning instead to kissing hungrily her soft skin. She huffed in frustration, but continued working on his waistcoat, and, once that was gone – his cravat and shirt. She herself had made sure that she wore nothing underneath the nightgown – thank Merlin for Warming Charms – and the robes which were already pooled by her feet. Severus pulled away from her to drag the thin garment over her head, then proceeded to stroke her body – at first gently, then with increasing urgency. Having got rid of the majority of his clothes, Hermione tugged at his belt and soon bare flesh touched bare flesh again. This time it felt as if he was consciously struggling to take things slowly, making sure she was burning intensely under his hands and lips, sure that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. His scent of herbs and spices seeped in her nostrils, his mouth kissing, biting, licking, the feather-light brush of his hair over her skin adding to the multitude of sensations until she whispered breathlessly, "Please... Severus..." At that he took the girl in his arms and gently laid her on the bed, kneeling beside her and kissing his way down her body until his lips found her most sensitive spot and lingered skillfully there until she gasped and shook with the intensity of her climax, grasping his hair.

"Severus..."

He pushed himself up and held the girl tightly until her breathing calmed, then entered her in one swift movement.

As they lay in each other's arms later, Hermione asked, "When did you start... seeing me as more than a student, Severus?"

It was a long while before he whispered, "I heard every word you said, when I was unconscious... I got to know you too well... When you brought me back, it was easier to be angry with you, to treat you with the same disdain I treated everyone else with. That way I didn't have to admit to myself I had developed... feelings for you. I was determined to protect my heart this time. Then I lost control... I was certain it had been a grave mistake, that you were repulsed, that I was even more loathsome than I had ever given myself credit for... Your letter gave me hope, made me see I couldn't go on lying to myself, building walls so as not to get hurt again. You were brave enough to be honest, so I decided to risk everything and return that honesty. So many years of hiding who I was under all the lies, all the bitterness, all the walls, but you were my undoing..."

Hermione breathed out, "I'm so glad you feel you can be honest with me..." After a long pause she went on, "Severus... If you need to speak about the years of darkness, I will be the one who will listen... I'd listen to anything..."

He buried his face in her hair and took a few deep breaths.

"You... don't need to know about any of it, Hermione... I would not subject anyone to the nightmares I've witnessed and participated in..."

She took his head in her hands and forced him to look at her.

"Severus, I've already seen things no one should see, felt pain no one should feel... I can bear it – I _will_ bear it. When I said we can heal each other, I meant it."

He sighed and buried his face in her hair again. His hot breath on her neck as he whispered made Hermione close her eyes in pleasure, but with a considerable effort she managed to concentrate on his words.

"I... I want to, but it's been hidden inside me for so long... It burns, like acid... There are so many things even Albus didn't know... I never showed him the memories of Voldemort's... _fascination_ with me... I hid the memories of the majority of the Crusios and the other twisted perversions I was subjected to... He knew, I think, but allowed me that little bit of dignity... Albus..." he paused for so long she wasn't sure he hadn't fallen asleep. When he finally spoke, his voice was so quiet she had to strain to hear it.

"Do you have any idea what it is like to be forced to kill the only person who's ever trusted you? To do it because he ordered you to? To hate a dead man for making you murder him in cold blood?"

Hermione's arms tightened around him as she struggled to hide her distress.

"I still don't know which hurt more – the knowledge that I had brought death to the woman I loved, or the burden of killing Albus..."

The pain was sharp and intense. He couldn't even say her name, and Hermione willed her eyes to remain dry. She had asked him to talk to her – she could listen, even if it cut right through her. She ran her fingers over his back, and could just about hear his whisper, "Don't stop that."

She continued stroking his skin, and he went on talking quietly, until with one deep breath he moved his face to kiss her and she felt the cold wetness of his cheeks.

"Oh, Severus..." Hermione struggled, and lost the fight, her own tears rolling down as she moved her lips fiercely all over his face. This time their lovemaking was as desperate and intense as the first time, and even as she trembled with pleasure, she could feel the tears still streaming over her face, over his face, slowly washing away the terror of the shared memories.

Afterwards they just lay silent, finding peace in holding each other tightly, until first Hermione, then Severus as well, fell asleep. Some time in the middle of the night, however, the girl was woken up from a blessedly peaceful sleep by the Potions Master bolting upright next to her, gasping for breath.

"Severus! What is it?"

She realised his entire body was shaking, covered in cold sweat. As she held him close, Hermione felt the rapid thudding of his heart, and found her own speeding up with worry. She murmured soft reassurances in his ear, caressing his back, his chest, his face, wiping the sweat away. Gradually he calmed down and relaxed his painfully tight grip on her – not that she had cared about that even as she had struggled to breathe, intent only on providing a safe anchor for him.

The rest of the night passed with no further incidents, and when Hermione woke up in the morning, it was to the sight of Severus' face, relaxed and peaceful in his sleep. He looked younger, more innocent, and her chest tightened as she lay watching him until his eyelids fluttered and his dark eyes stared at her. The clarity in them surprised her, and she blurted it out without thinking. His look darkened as he grimly said, "Double agents have to be prepared for anything, at any time."

Hermione leaned forward and kissed him violently. When she pulled back to breathe, he drawled, "Now, that is an infinitely better way to wake up," but his eyes remained serious. The girl was cheered to see the return of at least some of his dry wit – she was deeply moved by him opening up to her, showing her his softer side and letting her so close to him, but found she missed his usual sarcastic remarks. She nearly said so, but checked herself, as she wasn't sure he would take the comment the right way.

"So..." he said said seriously, looking at her intensely, "What now?"

"I... don't know, Severus... I don't want to lose you..."

"I don't want to lose you either," it was obvious it cost him a lot to say it, but when she rewarded him with a brilliant smile his eyes softened and he pulled her close, the kiss quickly progressing beyond the point by which either of them had the willpower to stop.

As they lay in each other's arms, their breathing only just returned to normal, Hermione frowned and muttered, "I should go – I have classes..."

Severus nodded reluctantly. "And I have potions to brew, courtesy of the incompetence of the current _Potions Mistress_," he spat the title with acidic disdain. She smiled.

"It won't be long before you take her place. Although not everyone would be happy about that."

He sneered. "That, my dear, is the biggest understatement I have ever heard. But it is necessary that I scare them sufficiently from the beginning, otherwise there will be no end to the accidents in the classroom."

"Erm... Severus, I wouldn't want to contradict you, but poor Neville kept messing things up all the time _because_ he was so scared of you."

He frowned. "What exactly are you implying?"

Hermione lost a bit of her courage at the sharp look he gave her. "Erm... Maybe you should be just a little bit less scary, Severus... I'm not saying to give them cookies or smile," she hastened to add as his scowl deepened. "Just... you know... just a little bit less scowling like _that_, and fewer insults..." She looked at him pleadingly. He kept his frown for a few more seconds before leaning forward to kiss her.

"I'll try. I don't promise anything, however."

She smiled sweetly. "You have nearly half a year under my positive influence until then. I believe you'll be a changed man, Severus Snape." Brown eyes sparkled with mischief, and it was just the necessity for her to attend her classes that made Severus reluctantly cease his intense kisses.

* * *

**I am glad to announce there is just one more chapter to go - if you want to know whether Severus and Hermione reveal their secret relationship, reviews really _do_ make me update sooner ;) Even if they are negative, don't feel shy to let me know, I can take it, I swear.**


	7. Invincible

**Chapter 7 – Invincible**

As the school year drew on, Hermione was relieved to find that having Severus beside her at night was extremely effective in keeping the nightmares and the pain at bay. She wished she could say the same about him, but he would still wake up once or twice every night without fail, always covered in cold sweat and gasping desperately. She didn't mind that he usually woke her up as well – it felt bittersweet to be the one to soothe him and lull him back to sleep. She swore silently to always be there for him, for he was no longer alone. And neither was she.

The other teachers noticed that the usually mercurial professor had begun to relax more and more, and as the exams got nearer, he even deigned to make a few jokes which missed the usual sting of acidic sarcasm about them. Hermione overheard McGonagall speaking to Madam Pomfrey once, as they walked a little ahead of her after lunch. The Headmistress said with wonder in her voice, "Severus seems much improved from what he used to be. I wonder what has happened to mellow him."

"I suppose it's natural, Minerva, he's not risking his neck on daily basis now, and can relax and take some of those thick shields down."

"I believe you are quite right, Poppy." Yet McGonagall didn't sound entirely convinced with that explanation. Just then, however, a nearby clock chimed the hour and the Headmistress exclaimed, "Oh, my, look at the time! I need to hurry up, or I'll be late for my class. Really, I can barely manage to find the time for all the paperwork I have to take care of, what with teaching all years, and that's without overlooking detentions... I hope I can find someone adequate enough to take on Transfiguration next year, I really do."

The approaching exams meant Hermione was extremely busy during the day, and thus sufficiently occupied not to miss being with Severus until late in the evening quite as much as at the beginning of their relationship, when she had often daydreamed wistfully during classes, only barely avoiding her absent-mindedness being noticed by teachers and students alike. Still, the highlight of her day continued to be the moments spent in the Potions Master's arms, or reading beside him on the sofa, one of his arms tightly draped over her shoulders as he occupied himself in a similar manner. He had connected his fireplace to the one in the Gryffindor common room, so that Hermione could go to him every night without the fear of being caught by Filch or Mrs. Norris while roaming the corridors way past curfew. Since the students didn't have access to Floo powder and to their knowledge the Gryffindor fireplace was not connected to the Floo network, it was reasonably safe, although Severus had grumbled at first when Hermione suggested it. However, he simply didn't seem to be able to refuse her anything.

The girl tried not to think about the future, taking everything one day at a time instead, but she couldn't entirely avoid occasionally worrying about what would happen with the two of them once she was no longer living in Hogwarts, and he had returned to his position of a teacher there. She hoped they would be able to come up with a solution when the time came.

At one of the occasional meetings with Harry in Hogsmeade, he unexpectedly stared at her for a few seconds, as if only just realising something important, then said, "You know, 'Mione, you look so much better now than at the beginning of the school year. It must be all that studying," he grinned at her with amusement.

"Thanks, Harry. I feel much better. I... seem to have finally come to terms with everything."

"Great." He paused, then carefully tested the waters, "Maybe you can think about getting back together with Ron then?"

Hermione noticed the badly-hidden hope in his voice, and rolled her eyes.

"Harry, you know me and Ron just doesn't work. We don't have common interests and believe it or not, I didn't break up with him because of how I felt about everything after the war. It was a factor, yes, but I became aware we simply didn't fit together, and _that_ was the main reason."

"Is there anyone else, then?" Harry looked at her with interest. Hermione thought for a moment of lying to him, but decided against it. He deserved to know at least part of the truth. So she smiled.

"Yes. But don't think you are going to wheedle his name out, because I'm not telling you anything else about him just yet."

"But why, 'Mione?" The disappointment in his voice was very obvious.

"Because..." she had to improvise quickly, " we are not entirely sure where it's going, right now. I'll tell you more when everything's more certain." It wasn't a lie, after all, Hermione thought. Just a slight distortion of the truth.

"Okay, but I'll hold you to that promise," he frowned for a while but at seeing Ginny walk through the door of The Three Broomsticks, his face lit up and he waved at her enthusiastically. As soon as she was seated next to him – wrapped around him was the more precise description, Hermione thought with a hint of Severus-like sarcasm – Harry forgot all about his friend and she decided it was time for her to quietly and tactfully make her way out.

The exams finally came, and went, and on the evening after the last of them – Potions, ironically enough – Hermione sat cuddled with Severus on the sofa, just enjoying the rest and the fact there were no more exams to worry about. Suddenly, the Potions Master moved his arm from her shoulders, untangled the fingers of his other hand from hers and knelt down before her, taking a small box out of his pocket. He looked rather nervous, which was quite a sight, part of Hermione's brain thought, while the rest of it thrummed with anxious curiosity.

"Hermione Jean Granger, would you do me the honour of marrying me?"

She was speechless. It was sudden, and she wasn't sure what to say. Her heart shouted loudly "Yes," but her brain unhelpfully reminded her he hadn't told her he loved her yet, even if she could feel his affection every time he touched her, or looked at her with uncharacteristic tenderness.

As the look in his eyes slowly became one of grim dejection, though, she knew what the right thing to do was.

"Yes, Severus Tobias Snape, I will gladly marry you." And she smiled softly at him. At that his eyes lit up in a way she had never seen before. He took the exquisite ring out of the box and slid it gently on her finger. When he sat back beside her and held her in his arms, he whispered softly, "Thank you..."

Hermione gave him a few minutes' reprieve, then she said mischievously, "You do realise we'll have to tell Harry and Ron about it, don't you?"

He growled. "Am I never going to be rid of that-" here she shot him a warning look and he grudgingly finished with "boy" - obviously not his original word choice, if his dark scowl was any indication.

"Harry is my friend, Severus, and so is Ron... well... at least I hope he still is... You have to accept that I interact with them occasionally. And you know after Harry saw your memories his opinion of you has changed a lot," although whether that would be enough for him not to explode at the news, Hermione didn't dare predict.

* * *

"What? You are_ marrying him_?_!_" Harry's incredulous look quickly transformed into full-blown indignation. "You... You can't! He's old enough to be your father, for Merlin's sake! And what about Ron?" Obviously Harry's opinion hadn't changed _that_ much then.

She sighed. "Right, let's start from the last one, Harry. What _about_ Ron?"

"Well, I... I hoped you would eventually get back together... I mean, seriously, Hermione! _Snape_? He's an ugly git!"

"Be careful what you say, Harry, as that 'ugly git' happens to be my fiancé," she warned him with deceptively calm voice.

He huffed in frustration. "Oh, fine! Do whatever you like! But it doesn't mean I like it!"

"Of course not, Harry. Although I admit I was under the impression that you thought Snape was 'probably the bravest man you ever knew'."

"That was _before_ you announced you were going to marry him," he scowled darkly.

Severus, who had acquiesced to Hermione's request for some time on her own with Harry, chose that moment to enter The Three Broomsticks and Harry glowered at him as he approached them.

"I see you've told Mr. Potter the news?" the Potions Master drawled, raising an eyebrow in a challenge to Harry.

"Yes, she did. And I don't approve of it at all!" the messy-haired young man muttered defiantly.

"For your information, Potter, I couldn't care less," Severus sent him a cold, disdainful look and sat beside Hermione, possessively wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

Harry scowled even more.

"How do I know you'll make her happy? Do you even _love_ her?"

Here Hermione held her breath. Severus scowled back at the young man, but after a few moments of grim silence drawled grudgingly, "Not that it is any of your business, Potter, but yes, I do love her. And she loves me," here he looked at the girl, the question in his eyes visible only to her. She nodded and smiled at him softly. Not the most romantic way of saying it for the first time, but it didn't matter.

"Yes, Harry. We love each other, and I really don't know why I am still sitting here arguing with you. We have a lot to do," she put her hand on Severus' thigh, and he looked at her gently.

"Fine. Congratulations," Harry muttered reluctantly, then as he stood up, he added, "Oh, by the way, don't bother giving Ginny a separate invitation to the wedding, she'll be with me."

"Who says you are invited, Potter?" Severus drawled silkily, and winced almost imperceptibly as Hermione kicked his leg hard under the table.

"I'm glad you'll come, Harry. And, about Ginny, you should consider popping the question to her yourself, you know," she quipped, grinning mischievously.

Severus sneered with satisfaction at the slightly worried expression on the young man's face.

"You should listen to her, Potter, she was always the only one with brains in your 'Golden Trio'."

"Snape, you do realise that if I tell you you'll always be a nasty old bastard you can't threaten me with detention or taking points off Gryffindor anymore, don't you?" Harry said smoothly and grinned, then moved to leave, throwing over his shoulder, "See you at the wedding, 'Mione. You deserve that I let you break the news to Ron yourself, but I'll take pity on you."

Hermione looked alarmed. "Actually, Harry, I'm seeing him tomorrow. Don't tell him anything if you talk to him, please."

Harry shrugged. "Fine. Better you than me, but you know he'll take it bad."

Hermione sighed. "Yes, I know. Anyway, see you at the wedding."

"Well, that went... well, I think..." Hermione muttered as they made her way out of the pub.

Severus nodded. "He'll come round. Now, as you said, we have a lot to do. Not least of all breaking the news to Hogwarts' honourable teaching body."

* * *

Their announcement found few teachers react more favourably to it than Harry, even if they politely tried not to look shocked, and failed. Trelawney was hazily surprised, Flitwick looked reprovingly up at them from his diminutive height, Sprout looked scandalized, Binns - vaguely concerned, Hooch was rather astonished, Vector threw them a doubtful glance, Greenleaf, the current Potions Mistress, looked nauseated, the new Defence Against the Dark Arts and Muggle Studies teachers exchanged curious glances, Sinistra looked intrigued, and even the Headmistress appeared to be slightly uneasy. Only Madam Pomfrey smiled at them kindly, and somewhat knowingly.

The couple stood close to each other, Severus' arm wrapped protectively over Hermione's shoulders, hers draped across his waist, as they listened equally politely to the teachers' concerns about their age difference and the fact that she used to be his student, then the Potions Master drawled, "If you are quite finished with the admonitions, you are all invited to the wedding. If you have any objections to our relationship, do not trouble yourselves with attending."

Hermione smiled at his bluntness. "We hope to see all of you at our special day. After all, we fought together in the war against Voldemort," here almost everyone flinched, "so wouldn't it be wonderful if we can unite again for a much happier occasion - one inspired by love and hope?"

The nods of agreement slowly, if still slightly reluctantly, spread among the teachers and the Headmistress stepped forward.

"On behalf of _all_ my colleagues I wish you a lot of happiness – Merlin knows you have both more than deserved it! - and we will _all_ be honoured to attend your wedding." She meaningfully swept her gaze over her colleagues.

Everyone clapped, some more reluctantly than others.

* * *

"WHAT?" Ron roared furiously. "YOU LEFT ME FOR THAT... THAT... FUCKING OLD BASTARD? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR BLOODY MIND?"

Hermione groaned and pressed her hand on Severus' arm to stop him from lifting his wand, and looking at his eyes shook her head, silently begging him to be patient. It was worse than she had hoped. "First of all, Ronald, that 'fucking old bastard' happens to be the man without whom we would have never defeated Voldemort and if you don't stop shouting and offending him, I swear I'll never speak to you again. And I might just hex you in addition to that. Second, you know as well as I do, that me and you just did not work. I love you, Ron," she felt Severus' arm tense under her hand, but went on, "but I've always loved you as a friend. I think we both mistook that for something more, but it wasn't. Believe me."

"And it is for you and the greasy git?"

Here Severus drawled, "Mr. Weasley, you and Mr. Potter show amazingly limited vocabulary. If you are going to try to offend me, at least have the intelligence to find insults neither of you has already overused rather pathetically."

Ron spluttered indignantly. "I'm not calling you anything, because I'm leaving! Hermione, I can't believe you've fallen for _him_, but in the future, keep me out of it. Actually, keep me out of your life!" With that he flung his chair back violently and stormed out of The Three Broomsticks, the staff of which had already been giving Hermione and Severus alarmed looks after the lively conversation from the day before. At that point the looks rather quickly transformed into something that suspiciously resembled hostility.

"I would suggest we leave as well, my dear," Severus said silkily and the girl silently slid her hand in his and followed him out.

"Well, that went splendidly, I thought," she said desolately as they were walking back to Hogwarts. The Potions Master stopped and drew her close, then kissed her rather thoroughly. By the time they separated, both of them were breathing heavily, and Hermione's mood had improved somewhat. She was almost certain Ron would come to his senses at some point anyway. He always did.

Severus interrupted her thoughts by tugging her hand gently. "I believe, my dear, that a hot bath would be exceedingly useful in taking your mind off Mr. Weasley's stupidity. Let's get back to my rooms."

"Thanks, Severus, you were right, I do feel much better," Hermione whispered, as she lay in the bath tub with his arms safely wrapped around her, then she twisted to give him a loving look. "When you hold me like that, I feel invincible, as if nothing and no one can hurt me anymore."

He only smiled at her – a proper, genuine, happy smile which still took her breath away every time she saw it – and kissed her passionately.

* * *

**A/N. No.1: Like it or not, please let me know - it takes less than a minute to review and feedback is very important to me. Also - would anyone like me to write an epilogue set around a year later to see how our two characters are doing? If more than five people get back to me with a positive answer, I will write it, otherwise I shall leave the story as it is. Hope all who followed it have enjoyed it to the end :)**

**A/N. No.2: Big thanks to everyone who has reviewed for the great feedback, and be reassured that an epilogue will follow. I can't say when, since I'm currently working on editing my original novel and getting it ready for the Big Agent Search, but I promise I _will_ write it. Just bear with me, please.  
**


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